


Young Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cults, Detective AU, Diary, I'd tag more but spoilers, Imprisonment, Kinda, M/M, Murder, Oh, Vampire AU, basically to get this idea out of my head, dubcon, honestly this was written in the matter of like four hours, idk if it needs more tags or tws, idk what else to tag, it's odd but bear with, kinda obvious - Freeform, let me know if you think so, longer chapters coming up, mention of rape, non-con biting, probably shouldn't be posting it bc it's a mess but oh well, surprise I still don't know how to tag, this is a mess, turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Another murder. But this time, there is a lead. This time, we've got him. Whoever he is.





	1. April 21st

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody's gonna read this after that summary.  
> Anyway this has some really short chapters, but they get longer towards the end. I started writing two hours ago, I just have this in my head and need to get it out. See it as an experiment on my part.
> 
> Some parts of this may or may not turn into totally sick filth so be warned. (Edit: Not as sick as I was worried it could be but still kinda fucked up I guess, then again, I've read worse)

There has been another body. Except this time, they made a mistake. This time, it wasn’t a body when we found them. That last bit of life left was put to good use, we know who we’re looking for. Sort of.  
I’ve seen a lot of weird crap in my lifetime, but amidst all the axe-wielding psychopaths, the creepy murdering twins, fucked up sex-plays gone wrong and masochists right out of _Friday 13 th_, I refuse to believe Vampires exist. Still, the black fringe, eye-liner and pale skin stereotype we can presume led to the victim interpreting the attack as some supernatural power is something to go on.  
Urie got over-excited at the prospect of featuring in a real-life horror-movie, as was to be expected. I didn’t bother with him, it’s useless. He won’t make it far in this job, not if he doesn’t change his attitude. Then again, these days, anything goes, who knows. Maybe we need his crazy imagination to find the weird-and-not-so-wonderful.  
Not a lot more to say about this weird case right now, only that she – I’m presuming she – is a similar age to previous victims by the looks of things, and killed by the same deep gash across her throat. On second thoughts, maybe vampires after all. God, look at me, I’m losing it, that’s what this fucking job does to you.


	2. April 22nd

I was right in presuming her age. Amy Bauer, 17. Her parents were heartbroken. Obviously. There’s a reason I let Urie handle identifications, he may be an idiot, but at least he’s an empathetic one. I always get told off for not caring enough, but I don’t know her, why should I be sad? Why should I pretend to be sad when I’m not? Seems stupid to me.  
According to her mom, Amy stayed in school late with a friend of hers, band practice or something. Gonna go round and ask her friend a few questions tomorrow, see if she knows anything. I hope she’s been told, I don’t wanna deal with crying teenage girls, I’m not a therapist and there’s a good reason for that. She went to Glenbrook High, I’m inducing her friend goes there, too, so that’s where I’ll be headed tomorrow morning.  
Amy hadn’t been drinking and she hadn’t been drugged. She had had sex, though. So that sends my ritual sacrifice theory flying out of the window, shame, almost. Cults are easy to catch once you’ve caught their scent. And it would have tied into the vampire story nicely.  
Lisa called today. I wish we could resolve this in a clean cut, but that doesn’t seem to be what I deserve. Maybe she finds joy in torturing me, then again, I probably deserve it for not being able to pull myself together the way she can. I mean, we were both left in the same position. And I was so fucking selfish about it. I was so selfish. If this is my punishment, it’s only fair, I guess… I need to stop drinking before the bottle is empty.  
Oh look, it is.


	3. April 23rd

Cassie – Amy’s friend – is a crying teenage girl. I’m not good with crying teenage girls. She did know, you’d somehow think 24 hours are enough to prepare yourself for questions without having a breakdown. Guess not.  
Once she’d spilled an ocean’s worth of tears and worked her way through both packets of tissues I had, she managed to tell me how good and kind and nice Amy was, I wouldn’t care, but profiling. She also didn’t have a boyfriend, and Cassie couldn’t tell me who she’d had sex with, She’d been with her all day and the day before. She’d gone home at 4 p. m., Amy said she was just packing up and she’d go home then. Nobody saw her after that, as far as we can tell. Her band instructor said he didn’t see her anymore, either, he’d left her and Cassie there to clear away the music stands and gone home.   
Amy was always a good student according to him, always participated, bright, sweet, good grades and a good bassist. In fact, nobody seems to have anything bad to say about her. Then again, that’s often they way.  
People rarely speak ill of the dead. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the living.


	4. April 24th

The sex was consensual. There was barely a sign of a struggle, the only bruising being around her throat where it had been cut, though autopsy couldn’t tell what had cut it, only that it seemed to have happened from the front. Which seems… strange. People don’t cut throats from the front, not without a struggle and not so cleanly.  
That’s another thing – the wound was clean. No blood dripping anywhere around it, like it had been cauterized the instance it had been cut, which raises the question – how did she die? Her oesophagus and trachea were intact. She hadn’t bled. Shock? No, the truth of the matter is, the pathologist couldn’t tell us what had killed Amy. The same way she couldn’t tell us who’d killed Gemma or Anna.   
This is a fucking mess.  
Urie went to her house, looked through her stuff, not much to go on, Cassie was right, she didn’t seem to have a boyfriend. In fact, I don’t think she was even interested in boys. Note to self: Check out if the other girls were lesbians, too. Might be a homophobia thing, which… honestly isn’t what I want to be dealing with right now. Hate crimes are the worst. The killer is usually a lost soul, one of those who you know can’t be saved in any way, living in their own bubble of hatred and blindness. Almost tragic if they weren’t such despicable creatures.   
I just got a call from the teacher. Apparently, Cassie and Amy weren’t the only ones still in the school, he said he remembered another kid there, but he was in the bathroom when he left and he wasn’t sure if he came back out. Patrick, his name is. Need to check this guy out, maybe he was the one who had sex with the vic.  
Then again, she wasn’t into guys. But there wasn’t any sign of rape, either. And yet post mortem clearly found traces of sperm in her. This is weird and fucked-up, I’m going to bed.


	5. April 25th

Dead end. Sort of.  
Urie and I had decided that this Patrick kid was the last person to have seen her, he’d walked with her, confronted her about her sexuality, bullied her into sex and killed her.  
The problem with that is that Patrick is a nice guy. Not a “nice guy,” a genuinely sweet person.  
He seemed rattled when I told him about Amy’s death, he dropped onto a chair in the canteen and Urie had to bring him a glass of water so he started talking. He only knew her from band practice, but she was nice to him, he said, not many people were nice to him. I can sort of believe that. He’s a nice guy, after all. Nice and not exactly Adonis. Almost bullying material if he were a little more obviously nerdy. He did walk Amy home, but he walked her straight home, well, to the corner of her street. He was then home by 5.30 p. m., his parents confirmed that. They’re odd though, sort of… just odd.  
The other problem with our theory is that Patrick is gay. I swear to god, nobody in this fucking town is straight. Oh, except for the first victim, my homophobia theory doesn’t add up. And Lisa.  
Patrick gave me his number willingly, he’s coming in for a DNA test tomorrow, just so we can exclude him. My gut feeling tells me he was telling the truth though, he’s a good kid who enjoys his music and just wants to be left alone.  
Honestly I understand him. Lisa’s boxes are by my front door. She’s upstairs getting the dog. Even the fucking dog. “You have to sort yourself out,” she said. Yeah, well, I’m trying, aren’t I?  
“You’re working too much,” what if those two go hand-in-hand?


	6. April 27th

There’s no match on the DNA. The kid came in yesterday to give his sample, he didn’t have sex with the vic. I’m pretty sure, however, that he’s having sex with somebody, going by the dark marks around his throat he was trying to hide beneath a collar. As long as it’s not relevant to the case, I don’t care.  
His left arm was bandaged, too. I asked him about it, he just shrugged it off, didn’t even bother explaining. Probably scraped it when he fell of a skateboard or whatever it is these kids do.   
I asked Amy’s mother if she really hadn’t seen her daughter after school and mentioned that a classmate had said he’d walked with her part of the way, but Amy never showed up at home. Somewhere between the street corner and her front door, Amy Bauer disappeared and showed up dead on the other side of the city six hours later. Riddle me that.  
We’re just going through her phone, trying to find anything that might help, anybody she might have known, anybody who might have wanted to hurt her, anything that might make her a target for a psychopath. Or a cult. Or, in fact, a lair of vampires. Fucking Urie is rubbing off on me.


	7. April 28th. Only just.

So I guess that’s it. Lisa’s gone. She left town. The dog went with her. And I’m back to square one. Just when I thought I had it figured. I don’t care if the bottle is empty tonight, maybe I can fill it with my shit instead.


	8. May 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters get a little longer after this one

We’ve got him.  
I’ve been busy the last few days.  
But we have him.  
Well, we know it’s him, we’ve just gotta pick him up.  
Pete Wentz is his name, he lives just outside of town and is shady as fuck. Works at a 24-hour McDonald’s, but can somehow afford a huge-ass house.  
He’d been texting Amy, but his number wasn’t saved, and she replied. First he was just reassuring her, telling her she could do “it”, she was worth something, she was beautiful, generally freaky pedo crap. I imagine he’s like 58 or something. It became more and more heated, turned into sexting and a promise to meet at 6 p. m. the day of her death.  
That was really fucking easy.  
Too easy.  
This can’t be the same guy, can it? There wasn’t a single lead on any of the others but their bodies. Maybe a copycat? Meaning we have Amy’s killer, but there’s a much worse one on the loose. One who knows how to cover his tracks. Still, I guess it’s something.  
I’ll bring him in tomorrow.


	9. Some time in July, probably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I feel the only reaction I'm aiming for with this is "what the fuck" please don't question my sanity.

I lost my mind in that place. I lost it and don’t know if I’ll ever find it again. I feel like I have been lied to by everybody I have ever loved and hated even though they were only telling the lied they had told themselves. The lies I had told myself.  
Pete didn’t run and hide when I rang the bell to the house that reinforced the vampire image. The guy who opened it reinforced it even more. If only I had known.  
Pete had a long, black fringe, hanging low over his eyes, dark, deep-set, surrounded by shadows. His lips were oddly puckered when he opened the door, the first thing I noticed was the way his mouth twitched ever so often.  
And he wasn’t old. Early to mid twenties. Legally too old for Amy, but not old. And I doubt he had any problem finding partners. Just seemed like the kind of guy who could pick up anybody, But he wouldn’t sneak off in the middle of the night, he’d stay, he’d make breakfast, he’d break their heart in the kindest and cruellest way.

He invited me inside when I explained why I was there, sat me down on a purple couch in a dark room illuminated by nothing but a dim candle as he went to get me a coffee.  
It smelled good, and I don’t know why, of all things, that’s what I remember. It smelled good and he was warm. His smile… it was… enticing. He was kind, cooperative. I was almost convinced he was innocent. I AM convinced. Still.  
“Tragic, about the girl.” He said, and he sounded sincere, “Really. Is there any way I can help? I can’t do much, probably, but I have connections. People who can get jobs done.”  
I gulped at that offer, and for some reason found myself trusting him.  
“No, I- I’m going to need you to tell me how you knew her. There were… texts.”  
Pete nodded. “That. I didn’t know she was… so young. She looked more my age. I am sorry. I know that doesn’t help anybody here, but I truly am. I don’t go for kids.”  
He took a sip of his tea without breaking eye contact.  
“So you admit to having sex with her?” Pete nodded.  
“She was a lesbian.” He had the audacity to laugh in my face. Well, it was more of an inward chuckle. “Evidently not, officer, otherwise I don’t think she would have responded to my… advances.”  
“So you didn’t rape her?”  
“You tell me. You have the post mortem, right? Did I rape her?” I found myself shaking my head, of course, because he hadn’t. The worst thing was, I wasn’t grossed out by this guy as he gently sipped his steaming drink as though the world could wait. “No. I didn’t.”  
“When did you see her?”  
“April 21st, 6 p. m., she was here, she left 45 minutes later. I didn’t see her after that. Tell me, officer, does that match her time of death?” I remember feeling fuzzy when he stared at me as though I were a ghost he could look right through, no, into.  
“no. it doesn’t.” Pete’s heavy gaze fell back to his tea at that and I felt like nails had been taken out of my hands, allowing me to slide back to the ground. “Do you have an alibi?”  
His face split into a grin at that.  
Maybe it was because of the mesmerizing smile and his kind, gentle tone that I did not notice the girl slumping down next to me. “This is Hayley. Hayley, say hi.”  
Hayley’s smile was cold. I remember that. It was cold. Her hair was… orange. But I was too distracted by her red eyes to notice the fangs.  
It didn’t even hurt.

  
I woke up, maybe days later, in a bed. I was comfortable. And alone.  
There were large windows that had curtains draped over them. I got up. I opened them. I saw nothing.  
I don’t know how to describe it, it wasn’t black or white or monochrome or colourful or hazy it was just… nothing. I didn’t even freak out, I was just done. I’m pretty sure I lost my mind somewhere between losing Dan and Lisa, or maybe they both just took it with them.  
I had books to read, paper to write on and records to listen to. I entertained myself for a while, why, I don’t know, it just seemed like a good thing to do. The thing was, neither fight nor flight set in. I was more comfortable and happier than I had been in months.  
Pete brought me food.  
Hayley fed off me.  
I asked her why Pete never bit me, she said he didn’t need to.  
I accepted that.  
They were, by the way, vampires. Either that or I’ve totally lost my mind and was hallucinating for two months straight.  
But, they weren’t like you’d imagine them. Neither Dracula nor Twilight.  
They were pretty normal, really. They talked to me, joked with me, watched TV with me and were generally… nice to me.  
They were normal. Aside from the fact that Hayley lived off draining my blood and they kept me locked in a room.  
Maybe I developed Stockholm’s.  
There is something oddly intimate about feeding. First, they smell your blood. Then they spend ages nuzzling around your body, trying to find just the right spot to sink their teeth into.  
The sensation when they feed it… good. It feels good. It feels satisfying and pleasing and almost loving, like you’re truly forming an ever-lasting bond.

  
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

  
Okay, that’s fucked up.

  
I don’t know how long it went on for. Long enough for me to get to know them both well enough to realize they wouldn’t hurt me. Or anybody.  
After a few days (maybe a few weeks) my brain started working.  
I did my job.  
I’d never seen Pete anything but happy and kind until I asked him if he knew anything about the girl. Anything about the killer. His eyes turned from dark brown to black, not just his iris, his entire eyeball was black. His breathing suddenly became erratic and I realized that up until that point, I hadn’t seen either of them breathing only once. Sniffing doesn’t count here.  
He got up and left without a word.  
I started trying to work then. Honestly, I trusted Pete and Hayley. I actually got a bit more out of her, enough to know they weren’t the only two in town. And whoever the third was, this dude was not to be messed with if Pete was scared.  
I actually don’t know if that’s a reliable indicator, I just got the impression that Pete was kinda powerful. Who knows.  
Hayley smuggled a book in with her once, telling me to not let Pete see that I had it. He’d tear my throat out. Literally. In retrospect, that should have been my first indication.  
My second one should have been when Pete did actually find it and threw me across the room. My head still hurts from that, I don’t know what I smacked into because I blacked out.  
I made the mistake of presuming Pete was keeping me locked in that room for my own safety, that my nosiness had caught the attention of the other vampire and he was out to get me or whatever.  
I never realized I was a gift until it was too late.  
At least Pete apologized when they moved me.  
The basement I ended up in looked like it had jumped right out of a horror movie, rough bricks forming the walls, marks and scratches scarring them, skeletons hanging in all four corners.  
The most shocking thing was the familiar figure.  
They had chained Patrick to the wall by his wrists, the iron bindings fixated on opposite walls towards the back of the room so that his arms were at a full stretch. He was slumped forward, back against the stone behind him. The way he looked was the first indication I had as to how long I’d been here. I’d seen him about a week before I went to arrest Pete, and he looked like he’d been in that place for months.  
He smiled at me when I walked towards him carefully, surprised that his face was showing more pity than mine, out of the two of us, he was far worse off.  
“Oh my god,” was all I choked out. “I don’t think god is with us down here, officer.”  
There were more than three vampires.  
I don’t know how many came to feed off me in those days I spent down there. I lost count. The worst thing was, I enjoyed it every single time.  
However, not one of them touched Patrick.  
But then, that one time, they brought me back and he was gone. He’d disappeared. The shackles that had held his skinny wrists were lying on the ground and I was certain he’d be the next victim on our list.  
Had this happened to any of the others?  
No, it can’t have, they were all found a few hours after they had last been seen. Then what was this?  
Maybe time didn’t work here the same way it did elsewhere.

I knew one thing, I knew Patrick was dead. Or as good as. And I knew I didn’t want to be a vampire bitch.  
My senses returned to me the moment that boy disappeared.  
I knew what I had to do.  
And I knew I had to do it before they bit me again.  
I have no idea how on earth I managed to overpower the girl that came to get me and lock her in that god forsaken basement. I have no idea how I made it past rooms crawling with the damn creatures when they could smell my blood from miles off. It seemed to be going well.  
Too well.

  
And then, after having somehow guessed myself along all the right corridors, I took a wrong turn.  
Suddenly, “cult” seemed to be the right word. “Devil’s worship” maybe. “Blasphemy” definitely.  
Or maybe it was just how it looked in the light.  
But the image will stay with me forever.

  
The white of Patrick’s pale skin was bathed in red light that made him appear almost on fire, his hands tied together above his head, fastened to the ornate curtain rail above the bed, one leg almost artistically tied to the bedpost. Pete was standing behind him, somehow balancing on the mattress as he fucked upwards into the boy roughly and I knew why he’d never touched me or why nobody ever touched Patrick.  
His teeth were buried deep in the white flesh of Patrick’s neck, Pete was taking deep gulps, blood dripping clumsily from his mouth and running down the pale body pressed against his.  
I remember feeling sorry for the kid, for this fate he was about to meet and for the way it would be met, until I saw his face. He was enjoying it.  
More, he was begging for it. His own dick already leaking against his soft belly.  
Was this what had happened to Amy? Had she begged for it?  
I took too long. My world stopped when Patrick opened his blue eyes and looked straight at me.  
“Pete, Pete” He panted and the vampire’s desperate movements stopped as he raised his own eyes to find mine.  
His fangs were long and sharp as he pulled them out of his prey, dark blood dripping from them. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”  
I’m not gonna lie, I’ve never been more scared in my life. “Untie me, Pete, now, do it.”  
I found I couldn’t move as the bonds were undone and they both stepped off the bed and towards me. A necklace of inked thorns was decorating the skin on Pete’s collarbone.  
I remember how dry my throat was, how my voice completely failed me, how I was ready to beg for mercy and how warm and comforting Patrick’s hand felt on my shoulder. He had pulled on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, the red from his neck staining the grey cotton. “We need to get you out.”  
I went from terror to confusion in a matter of milliseconds. Pete made an unapproving grunting noise. “Don’t argue, you know he won’t live if he doesn’t get out. You could barely live with yourself last time that happened.” He turned back to me, “I can help you. I can help you get out. Do you trust me?”  
I wanted to say no. I really did. He was both predator and prey in this situation. Had they all been? Or did he lure them in whilst the vampires surrounding him prepared to strike? I couldn’t fall for this.  
But what choice did I have?  
I must have said yes or nodded or something because next thing I knew, I was running behind Patrick, through twisting corridors, past locked rooms, deeper and deeper into a complex that couldn’t possibly be as big as it was.  
And then fresh air hit my face.

  
It was night.  
It was cold.  
“Run, go, don’t look back, don’t come back. Go as far as you can, the city is that way, it will be much further now than it was on your way here, but trust me, you will get there.”  
He turned to leave but I gripped his arm. I shouldn’t have gripped his arm. I should have gone and let him go, too.  
“Come with me. He’ll hurt you, he’ll kill you and you’ll end up like Amy. And all those others. You can’t trust him.” Patrick just chuckled. “You think Pete killed those girls? I’m not leaving him. I won’t leave him. I don’t expect you to understand but-“

  
Then I was thrown backwards.  
My vision went blurry for a while, causing my head to spin, but when I came to, I saw a tall, dark-haired figure standing where we had just been. He wasn’t looking at me. I followed his line of vision and spotted a tiny, blonde-haired figure dressed in a grey hoodie slumped at the other end of the lawn between the house and the trees surrounding it.  
The newcomer bound towards Patrick and a piercing scream filled the night as he struck a mortal blow. I didn’t see it happen. Thankfully. I don’t know how he killed the boy, I just knew he was dead. I also knew the vampire that fought the taller figure was Pete.  
I legged it.  
I ran.  
I’ve never run so fast for so long, screams and cries and hisses and inhuman sounds piercing through the night behind me.  
And then suddenly, the weren’t.  
And suddenly, I was in front of my house, not knowing what was real and what was a dream.  
Somehow, I just went to bed. Somehow, I just fell asleep. Somehow, I woke up this morning, made breakfast, showered and sat down to write this.  
As though nothing happened.


	10. May 5th

Whoever got killed that night was the murderer.

It turns out I was only gone for around three days and nothing in my life makes sense anymore, but hey, nor surprises there.  
Honestly, what on earth is wrong with me, is this some fabrication of my sick mind?

Probably.

Then again.

Explicit vampire sex. Not even I would come up with that. I mean honestly, what even was that.

In retrospect, I may have been exaggerating that specific scene (and also don’t know why that’s the one that stayed with me), probably just a bit of your average light BDSM crap, I’m not even going to pretend I’ve never ventured in that direction myself.  
The candlelight was freaking me out though.

The case is closed in my opinion. I’m not working on it. Urie still is, he wants to find the killer, make sure he doesn’t strike again, whatever, I know he won’t.

If it was Wentz, then I could almost be sad about it. Well, if he hadn’t been a psychopathic murderer, that is.

But he really was kind, a kind, poetic soul. We probably would have got on had the circumstances been different ones.

One thing doesn’t match up, though. I had his DNA tested against the sperm we found on the body. It wasn’t his.

He was lying.

He was protecting somebody.

Not that it mattered, whoever it was was dead. That’s enough closure for me. Just once in my life, I’d like the topic to be done with closure. That would be nice.


	11. May 11th

I was wrong.

I got it wrong, I fucked up and for once I’ll admit it and be sorry about it.

This time, it was messy.

This time, the body was drained dry, the wound was gashing and ugly, this time, it was a 32-year-old man.

But it was undoubtedly a vampire.

I know for a fact I wasn’t in my right mind when I went haring back to the vampire house, but honestly, what did I have to live for if not this?

I expected everything but a drained, exhausted, hopeless Pete to answer the door and look at me with the most pitiful expression I had ever seen.

“Help me.”

 

-

 

 _Patrick had met Pete at his workplace. He wasn’t a fan of McDonald’s, but it was 2 a. m. after a concert and he had nowhere else to go to fill his starving gut. Pete had been cleaning tables and just flopped down next to Patrick, probably ended up eating half of his portion of fries by the end of the night._  
Patrick left with Pete’s number and happiness, he’d been nice, funny. And seeing as he was nearly 18, he didn’t suppose their slight age gap would be a problem if this turned into anything.  
More than anything, Patrick needed a friend. And Pete became his friend Truly and genuinely, he was there when he had feelings so complicated he couldn’t begin to explain, yet Pete got them. He was there for all his problems and he stayed through them, too. Patrick wasn’t sure when their friendship turned into a relationship, he just knew it was before he found out about the vampirism thing.  
Pete had turned up after a Spar once, battered and bashed, Patrick had wanted to call an ambulance, that’s how bad he had looked. But he’d refused.

_Patrick just let Pete cry into his shoulder for two hours before he finally mustered up the courage to explain everything._

_He was a vampire._

_He’d been a vampire for 60 years._

_He fed off humans. That was, he had to to survive, but his guilt got the better of him, making him this scrawny, weak excuse of a vampire._

_He didn’t enjoy the fighting, it was expected._

_He didn’t enjoy it because he always lost._

_He always lost because he barely ever fed._

_Patrick didn’t know why he believed him instantly, he didn’t know why he offered Pete his arm. Pete hesitated to take it, asking for reassurance no less than seven times before finally sinking his fangs in.  
It felt good, so good. _

_This became a regular thing, Pete and Patrick went out, were together, they were a normal couple that did normal couple things like go to the movies and have dinner together and – yes – sex, they’d cuddle and kiss and whisper “I love you”s when it was 4 a. m. and neither of them knew how to get through this life anymore. The only difference was, Pete occasionally drank Patrick’s blood. Could be worse, right?_

_At least, that was what it was like until things went haywire._

_About 18 months after they first met, the first body showed up. Patrick panicked. He knew what this was instantly, he knew it was a vampire attack, he knew people would be looking for a killer and he knew that, even though he was innocent, Pete was in the firing line._

_He was the one that made him go to the lair and live with others like him, safety in numbers and that. He hadn’t, however, planned on being chained against a wall in a dungeon by Pete’s sire for what felt like weeks._

_He felt guilty when the officer was thrown in with him, somehow thinking that if he hadn’t sent Pete here, none of them would be in this situation. It didn’t make any sense at all, but that’s how it worked in his head. The poor guy seemed broken already, Patrick could tell, his curly brown hair was long and tangled as though it had been neglected for ages before he came here._

_Patrick lost count of how many vampires drank from him._

_He felt even more guilty when Pete and Hayley managed to release him whilst the sire was feeding off the cop, Joe, Patrick thought his name was._

_He just felt awkward as hell when Joe then later saw him stark naked and at his most vulnerable.  
God knows what their weird set-up must have looked like to the outside world. In reality, they were both needy and Pete was thirsty. Fucked up priorities really you get out of a dungeon and the first thing you do – after eating a few slices of bread – is let your boyfriend tie you up and fuck you whilst he drains your blood. But hey. Love. Or maybe lust. Probably both. _

_Had he not been in mortal danger, Patrick would have explained to Joe that this was totally just experimenting and not a thing they did regularly. But he figured Joe didn’t give a fuck._

_He was pretty amazed that Joe even trusted him enough to rely on him to get him out of that hole, but Patrick did. He got him out._

_And he was repaid by being held back and consequently killed._

_Sort of._

_The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Pete’s tall, dark-haired sire towering over him. He bent down and dug his claw-like fingers into Patrick’s chest. Right over his heart._

_He didn’t want to imagine the details of what happened inside his body._

_He just remembered pain._

_That was it._

_Pain and the sound of his own screams._

_Then the sound of Pete’s screams._

_Patrick looked up, trying to find him, but he couldn’t make out anything as he struggled for air and coughed up a mouthful of his own blood instead. Pete always said it tasted like strawberries and cream.  
Patrick thought it tasted like death._

_Pete must have won, he must have, because the next thing Patrick was aware of was he was being held by him. Head on his boyfriend’s lap, eyes sliding shut. The pain felt faint. Everything felt faint. Pete was calling his name, but it felt like he was under water.  
Everything was so far away._

_Even the bite._

 

-

 

He looked even paler than usual. Patrick’s forehead was laced with sweat, but his body lay peaceful beneath the white blanket pulled up to his chin. His eye fluttered slightly behind closed lids. He wasn’t breathing.  
Then again, they never did.

Pete was biting the nail of his left thumb anxiously, waiting for me to react.

I couldn’t.

I didn’t know how to.  
“Let me get this straight, you… turned him?” Pete nodded. This was… ridiculous. How was this my life now?

“And he’s still dying?”

“His body didn’t take the bite. It happens. I should have known. He was too weak already. And now he’s going to die anyway only a lot more slowly and painfully and it’s my fault and-“ Pete broke off and drove a hand down his face.

“Fuck.”

I turned back to the unmoving boy and almost found pity in my heart. He really was just in love. And if Pete’s story was to be believed, so was Pete. Actually no, I didn’t need a story, I could see he was.

I knew that fear.

The fear of losing somebody you love.

You can’t fake that. Not even if you’re a vampire.

“And drinking from people will save him?” Pete nodded. “Maybe”  
But he stopped me when I went to hold my pulsing wrist out to the kid. “No. He can’t control it. He’ll drink you dry.”   
“Which is what he did with that guy?”  
“I lured that guy here. It was me. If you wanna find somebody to hate and punish, it’s me you’re looking for.”

I couldn’t. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I understood too much to be able to hate him. I’d have done the same if I could.

I should have brought him in for homicide, I should have. But I couldn’t.

I told him. I told him I didn’t have anything left to live for, my kid was dead, my wife left me, she even took the fucking dog and if it meant Pete didn’t have to suffer the same fate as me, he could have my life in exchange for Patrick’s.

He didn’t take it.

I don’t know how I could ever have suspected him of killing anybody voluntarily.  
He was, against all odds, good.

But I was going to make Patrick better, I was going to.

I can smuggle some blood out of the hospital, I’m sure. Nobody would notice. It would only be enough to save nine people.

Nine more people.

For the life of a fucking vampire.


	12. May 14th

or the life of a fucking vampire.

 

 

It’s over.

It’s done.

I went to Pete’s two days later, car suspiciously full with the life of nine people. Don’t think about that Joe, just don’t.

The look on Pete’s face when he saw what I’d done was truly beautiful and spoke of more gratitude than a thousand “thank you”s could.

I sat beside the bed as Pete fed the blood to his partner, who regained a little more colour with every sip. By the time he was halfway through, his eyes were open. I couldn’t help but flinch when I saw they were burning golden. I couldn’t help but flinch when I saw his fangs were longer than Pete’s even, tearing a hole in the plastic bag so he could access the contents.

“Thank you.” He said when he was sitting up, his smile was genuine. Patrick was resting against Pete’s side, breathing out of habit, his eyes were closed as the older vampire held him tightly with his right arm, kissing his blond hair repeatedly.

I wonder what would have happened if I had just left then, if this would be some really fucked-up fairy-tale with a somewhat happy ending to make up for the horror that had accompanied it in my head. If I would ever have found out.

The comforting scene that lead me to believe these two could live their vegan vampire life in peace somewhere ended when Patrick’s eyes snapped open.

He pushed himself away from Pete and stood up, swaying a little. “What is it?” Pete asked as he saw the panicked look on his boyfriend’s face. He audibly sniffed the air, so Pete would mimic his actions.

His eyes widened and turned black.

“Fire.”

I was dragged out of the room by Pete, Patrick following closely behind us. The impossible corridors seemed even worse this time due to the heavy smoke spreading through them, restricting our sight and my breathing.

No.

Not just mine.

“Patrick you stupid idiot, stop breathing!” Pete dumped me the second he realized the other vampire had fallen behind and was coughing. “You don’t need to breathe, stop it!” He took his face in his large hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Patrick you need to stop breathing, do you hear me? You’re going to kill yourself.” Patrick nodded faintly, coughing the smoke out of his body.

Then came the end.

Six men, carrying the oddest array of tools and weapons. I was feeling faint at this point and one of them dragged me up and stuck an oxygen mask over my face. Not a good idea, but better than dying, I guess.

Pete was standing, facing the men, Patrick still crouched on the ground behind him. It took me too long to figure out what was happening. Pete had already killed two of them, two more slashing at him with silver daggers as a third one ran off into the other direction behind me. I was still being held by somebody.

It happened way too quickly. It’s a cliché for a reason. Death isn’t easy to deal with.

Pete was slashing at the men, had one pinned against the wall, strangling him whilst he was snapping at the other with his fangs, but he took one wrong step, one wrong move caught him off-balance. The man he was strangling broke free and, before he knew what was happening, Pete had a wooden stake in his gut, pinning him to the wall behind him.

I can remember a quiet “no” escaping me, but it was nothing compared to the cry that rang in my ears when Patrick realized what had happened.

He pushed himself off the floor and stumbled towards Pete, tearing the two men’s throats out as he walked past, barely having to fight, as though this was something he’d been doing all his life.

Little Patrick had just killed two men.

Grief made you do ridiculous things.

He propped himself against the wall Pete was pinned against, tears staining his cheeks as he put a hand against Pete’s face. “Pete, Pete, please, don’t… leave me.” It was heart-wrenching. I couldn’t catch what it was Pete muttered in reply through dying coughs, but Patrick touched their foreheads together and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“no.” Pete croaked. “No, Patrick… no.”  
Patrick ignored him and kept breathing, deeply, making sure the toxins spread through his body. It was a tragic, pitiful sight, a dying Pete begging a dying Patrick to stop killing himself.

And then he died.

Light sobs shook Patrick’s weakened body as he pressed their lips together.

I needn’t have asked myself how long it took for Vampires to die by suffocation, or how it worked, for that matter, because the third guy had emerged at the other end of the corridor, I tried to warn Patrick, I really did. But then again, what would the use have been if he had heard me?

He let out an unpleasant grunting noise when the stake was shoved through his body from behind, pinning the two dead vampires together.

“You’re okay, you’re safe now.” The man holding me tried to reassure me.

But I wasn’t okay.

I don’t think I’ll be okay again.

Vampires are real. Vampire slayers are real. My entire world is based on lies. Everything I believed has been turned upside-down in the matter of weeks.

My child is still dead. I will never see him again. I will never hold him again.

Maybe I’ll call Lisa tonight. Maybe tonight’s the night I figure myself out. Maybe now everything will make sense. Maybe it’s time for me to be happy.

I hope they are. In another life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the hell that was let's not question it and just forget this is a thing my brain came up with.


End file.
